


i'll take my chances

by kissmesexybatman



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Schmoop, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: "The problem was he wasn’t sure leaving was easier anymore (and god, didn’t that make him sound like a fuckin’ sap?), and he sure as hell would leave a trace."





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EGQyMOtGDw)

It was fuckin’ _cold_ in Gotham. Jason shivered, glad he’d bothered to pull on his old hoodie and sweatpants before he stepped out onto the balcony. He glanced down at the clothes in question. They pretty much lived here now at Tim’s apartment; Jason had to dig through a pile of Tim’s own dirty clothes before he’d found them.

A car drove by in the street below as he tapped the ashes off his cigarette, blasting some song with a heavy beat. The sliding glass door rattled in its frame, and Jason glanced over his shoulder to check if the asshole had woken Tim up.

Apparently not. Tim was still facedown in his mountain of pillows, blankets half kicked off his pale back, a leg stretched out over Jason’s vacant spot.

Jason let his eyes linger for a long second. The weak morning light barely picked out the ridges of scar tissue traced across Tim’s body, a timeline of a life spent in violence, winding and unending and utterly familiar to Jason. He tore his gaze away, back to the city skyline, sucking in a sharp drag off his cigarette.

And how had that happened, exactly? he asked himself, the question sounding softer than it should even in his head. He was the _Red Hood_ , dammit. He never stuck around long enough for anything to become familiar, not patrol routes, not safe houses, and especially not people. It was easier that way. Safer.

For the hundredth time that year, month, _morning_ , he considered just grabbing his stuff and leaving without a trace.

Except.

That wasn’t quite true, not anymore. Jason glanced down at the ashtray that had appeared out on the balcony one morning. When he raised an eyebrow at Tim, he just shrugged and said he was tired of stepping on cigarette butts barefoot. He followed that with a stern finger and “I’m still not letting you keep them here, though, those things will kill you.”

He hadn’t been terribly amused by Jason’s “been there, done that.”

And that wasn’t the end of it. There were Jason’s clothes, on the floor and in the hamper and even occasionally in an actual drawer. There was his toothbrush and razor in the bathroom. There were his favorite brands of tea and cereal in the kitchen.

A pigeon took off from the roof a building over, flapping past Jason into the pale gray sky. He watched it vanish into the chaotic silhouette of the city.

The problem was he wasn’t sure leaving _was_ easier anymore (and god, didn’t _that_ make him sound like a fuckin’ sap?), and he sure as hell would leave a trace. Safer, sure, because sometimes Tim gave him this _look_ that made him feel like his guts were trying to choke him from the inside out, and sometimes he lay awake at night, the nights Tim wasn’t there, wondering where he was and what he was doing, and sometimes on the bad days all Jason wanted was to do was crawl under his blankets and read his favorite books (again) and drink tea like he always did, but he didn’t want to do it alone anymore. He wanted to reach out and card his fingers through (too long) black hair and tangle them in Tim’s slender ones. Piano fingers, his mom always called them. She had them too, although Jason could only recall two times she played for him.

His cigarette had dwindled down to mostly ash while he’d been caught up in his own damn thoughts. He was just tired, probably. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, instead watching the city lights play off the curtains until they faded into dawn. He ground out the stub in the ashtray, tucking his freezing hand into his pocket when he finished. Jason looked up. Smooth, low-hanging clouds painted the sky a solid gray. It was already mid-October. In just over a month it would be snowing.

Safer, maybe, but easier…? Jason didn’t even have to seriously consider the question. Leaving would be the hardest fucking thing he’d ever do.

And still sometimes he would lie awake at night, like last night, and just _think_ about it. His own head had always been his worst enemy. Maybe it would be better if he did. It would be better for Tim, he was sure, no matter how much Tim insisted otherwise and how angry he got when Jason said so, narrow shoulders drawn up tight and scowl creasing his thin face in a way that made Jason just want to run his fingers over those wrinkles until they vanished.

Safer. Not easier.

But safer. He had realized that months ago, the night they got themselves in a fight, him and Tim and Damian and Duke, all facing off against the newest D-grade villain of the week. Tim had taken a blow across the chest from some guy with “super strength.” It wasn’t very super, and they didn’t have too much trouble bringing the guy down, but it was enough to send Tim flying off the side of the building, a grunt of surprise and pain torn out of him as he hurtled out of sight. It was something that Jason had seen happen a hundred times before, to Dick, to Bruce, hell, to _himself._

And yet the tips of Tim’s fingers vanishing below the edge of the roof, even as Jason threw himself forward to catch him, had sent him into a panic he’d never even known he could feel, dread washing through him with every terribly measured, horribly frantic pound of his heart, an ice-cold tide rolling over him.

And Tim had been fine. Of course. He caught himself with his grappling hook and was hanging against the side of the building, catching the wind that had been knocked out of him.

Jason disappeared for a week after that. He’d felt vulnerable and exposed in a way he’d never felt before, like someone had reached inside him and pulled out his heart and put it in his hands. Tim never asked why he vanished, just gave him that soft, gut-knotting smile when he finally came back, and it felt like maybe it didn’t matter that he was still ripped wide open.

Not easy at all.

Jason leaned against the railing of the balcony and forced himself to take a long, slow breath, fighting the echo of panic out of his chest and releasing it into the (still freezing) air on a long sigh.

A car alarm went off a couple blocks away, the sounds of the city gradually pulling him back from that rooftop. A flock of birds rose up from behind some buildings and flapped across the sky. Jason wondered if the pigeon he saw earlier had found some friends.

A pair of warm arms wound around his waist. Tim settled his forehead between Jason’s shoulder blades, yawning. “What are you doing out here?” His voice was muffled against Jason’s hoodie.

Jason dropped a hand to cover Tim’s. “Smoke.”

“Those things will kill you,” Tim said, turning to lay his cheek across Jason’s back instead.

Jason opened his mouth.

Tim’s arms squeezed him tight. “Don’t say it.”

Jason couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “You know me too well.”

Tim hummed in reply. “I know you well enough to know it doesn’t take you half an hour to smoke a cigarette. Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Jason was a little surprised to find he wasn’t lying. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Then let’s go back to bed. It’s way early,” Tim grumbled. He started shuffling them backwards, towards the bedroom door.

Jason let himself laugh this time. “You could have gone back to sleep, idiot.”

Tim stopped and buried his face in Jason’s back again. “I can’t sleep without you,” he mumbled.

Well. Jason turned around and tugged him into a proper hug. “You going soft on me, Timbers?” he teased, fighting the fluttering in his stomach at Tim’s sincere tone.

“Yes,” Tim breathed against his chest.

Jason didn’t know what to say. He reached down and gently tilted Tim’s face up for a kiss instead.

Tim smiled as he pulled away. “Think you can get some sleep now?”

Jason smiled back. “Guess we’ll see.” He slid the door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you want to take a second to drop me a kudos, a comment, or even a [tumblr message](http://kissmesexybatman.tumblr.com/) i will be forever grateful.
> 
> shout out to bastille's new album for bringing this to life. the anchor is probably the most beautiful love song i've ever heard.


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